


Custom Made.

by neatospiffy



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Breakups, Eventual Smut, Hate mail, M/M, Past Relationships, Past!JJP, Pining, Slow Build, Smut, computer tech!bambam, consent-driven, cyborg AU, jaebum has morals yall, mechanic!Jackson, mentions of breakups, mentions of self harm, yugyeom the mailman oml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neatospiffy/pseuds/neatospiffy
Summary: the cyborg AU that literally nobody asked for. aka Jinyoung is drunk, Jaebum buys a cyborg, Youngjae wants emotions and Jackbam are disgustingly cute together. also Yugyeom is the mailman.----Jaebum swallowed down his uneasiness as he clicked on the order button. It was just a way to get through the breakup, he reasoned. Besides, it wasn’t taboo anymore to have a companion cyborg, even less so a sex cyborg.He ignored the fact that male sex cyborgs were rare, and ignored yet another angry beep on his answering machine as Jinyoung left yet another (probably drunken) voicemail about how he hates Jaebum’s guts. You’d think Jaebum was the one caught cheating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how technology works so this cyborg AU is as far from canon as can get

 

It was only one click away, Jaebum reminded himself. His cursor hovered over the order button, still unsure. He’d designed it himself, the entire cyborg. He’d put the most he could into it, customizing the skin down to every little freckle, choosing hair color, hand shape, eye shape, even the shape of its naked body.

His hesitance was over his gender selection. He’d known he was gay for almost his whole life, but male cyborgs were a rare commodity, despite cyborgs being less of a taboo subject every day. He was about to drop the equivalent of a couple thousand dollars on it, on the beautiful cyborg he’d designed, but not only was it rare, it was borderline _obscure_ to see a male cyborg, much less a male _sex_ cyborg. He almost felt a twinge of guilt in his gut as he ordered, finally pressing the button.

After entering his debit card information, (because there was no way in hell he was putting that much on his _credit card,_ ) he sat back with a tense sigh.

“ _Order placed. Please wait 1-3 weeks for construction and delivery. If any fault occurs within the first 6 months, please contact us for warranty information. Thank you for your purchase._ ”

He eyed the screen, eyes flitting over the time as his phone buzzed with a new voice mail. It was 2:37 in the morning, and Jinyoung left him yet another *probably drunken* voicemail for what seemed to be the nth time in the four months since they’d broken up.

Jaebum sighed and unlocked his phone, pressing on the voicemail to listen.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung’s voice slurred. “Jaebum, you balloon, pick up the _phone._ You’re-” Jinyoung burps, and it sounds liquidy. Jaebum winces. (also, _balloon?_ ) “I hate you. You asshole. You’re an asshole and I hate you. And I totally don’t even, like, miss you. At all, like, I _don’t._ ‘Cause you’re a-- you’re, a-a.. Shit, what did I say earlier? I can’t remember but I think it was dick. You’re a dick.”

With that, the voicemail ends, and Jaebum isn’t even surprised at the contents of it anymore. Tomorrow, Jinyoung would have no memory of sending it anyway, so he deletes it. With the amount of these that Jaebum receives, you’d really think that _he_ was the one caught with his face glued to someone else’s on the side of a cafe that Jaebum wasn’t supposed to be at.

Jaebum pushes it out of his mind and locks his phone, rubbing at his face roughly. He really should get to bed. With the image of his cyborg in his mind, he turns off his computer and abandons his clothes, sliding into his bed and falling asleep quickly.

  
  
  


A little over a week later (nine days, not that he’s been counting though) a knock on his door makes Jaebum jump to his feet. There’s a box, a large box, and the guy with the little trolley is barely taller than it, with a strong nose and childlike eyes. _Yugyeom,_ his nametag says.

“Sign here,” He says, holding out a clipboard. Jaebum initials it and signs the line at the bottom, handing it back to Yugyeom with a stiff smile. Yugyeom wheels the trolley over and nudges it under the box, rolling it with a bit of struggle into the entryway of Jaebum’s apartment.

“Where’s a good place for this?” he asks. Jaebum shrugs.

“Here is fine, I guess, thank you.” Yugyeom beams at him and gives him a small salute as he turns to leave, almost as if to say, ‘good luck.’ He briefly wonders if Yugyeom has a cyborg too. Probably not, considering how young he was.

Jaebum looks at the box for a few minutes, thick plywood marked with ‘Fragile Contents’ warnings in red and ‘This Side Up’, the usual. There is no company name, but the size of the box is indicative of the contents. Well, he might as well get it over with, he figures, rummaging around under the sink for his toolbox. He finds the crowbar and levers it against the front corner of the box, pausing for a moment with his heart in his throat. This was the moment of truth, he supposed.

With a strong push, the front of the box began coming off, so he moved to the sides and repeated the same. It was open and there was another cardboard box inside, surrounded by a multitude of plastic baggies of air and bubble wrap. He lifted the smaller box with a great amount of struggle and almost dragged it to the couch.

With a pair of scissors, he carefully cuts the tape, breath hitching as he opens the flaps.

Lying inside, looking for all the world like it was asleep, was his cyborg. It was beautiful, just like how he designed it, but somehow seeing it in person was different. There was a tight feeling in his chest as he gazed at it.

To either side were cords and plugs. Folded on its chest were two pieces of paper, the first with instructions on how to turn it on and how to charge it, general maintenance and upkeep, and finally, the warranty. Jaebum skimmed it over before picking up the second piece of paper. This one was in the style of a certificate, with a gold authorization stamp in the bottom corner and pre-written signatures saying that this cyborg was certified under Jaebum’s name, belonged to him, and was his responsibility, should he sign. Under that was a large line for the cyborg’s name, Jaebum’s signature, and the cyborg’s thumbprint for identification, should he get lost.

Jaebum frowns at it, unsure about a name. He fills the rest out, leaving the thumbprint bit for later and setting both documents on the counter.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and texted Jackson, his best friend. He didn’t bother texting Jackson’s boyfriend, Bambam, because undoubtedly they would be together. _The cyborg is here,_ he said, sending it.

Ten minutes later, Jackson opened his door without knocking and rushes inside, to the couch, to gaze at the cyborg.

“God, Jaebum, he’s still _naked,_ have some decency,” Jackson cries.

Jaebum frowns, trying to figure out who was naked in his house, before his brain remembered that he now had a companion living with him. The cyborg.

Jaebum hadn’t even registered that it was naked, much less did it register that it was a _he._ But now, he felt stupid for referring to him as an _it,_ even if he wasn’t  booted up, because of the idiocy of it. Of course he was a he.

“Oh, um, sorry about that, I didn’t really even notice.” Jackson huffs and places the papers from the counter over the cyborg’s crotch, eyeing Jaebum skeptically.

“You didn’t notice.” he states.

Jaebum flushes at the unspoken accusation.

“I _didn’t._ ”

Bambam stands in the doorway, all long limbs and smooth tanned skin, looking a bit hesitant. Scratch that, looking _very_ hesitant. He’s never seen a cyborg before, Jackson had explained. Neither had Jaebum, honestly, but now it was his responsibility to make sure that his cyborg was safe around everyone. He nodded at Bambam, jerking his head towards the couch.

“Come see.”

Bambam bit his cheek nervously as he stepped in, following after his boyfriend. He looked at the cyborg, looking almost disappointed.

“I thought he was supposed to be like, a robot, y’know? He looks like a person,” he said, borderline whining. Jaebum frowned.

“He’s meant to look like a person, Bambam.”  Jackson spoke up, shooting Jaebum a reassuring glance.

“What’re you gonna name him?” Bambam asks, shamelessly eyeing the papers covering his crotch. Jaebum ignores the jealousy that that action causes and shrugs.

“Well, what baby names have you wanted?” Jaebum choked on his spit.

“I’m not naming him after my potential children, Jacks,” he said. Jackson shrugged and Bambam draped himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“I’ll boot him up and decide later,” Jaebum murmured, delicately lifting the paper with instructions on it and reading the section labeled “Powering Up” with shaking hands. Why was he nervous?

“You nervous?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, a little, I guess.”  Jackson hummed.

Jaebum carefully lifted the cyborg’s head and rolled it to the left, exposing the small flesh-colored silicone plug that filled the charger port when it wasn’t in use. He removed it and rummaged around next to him to find the right cord, plugging it in and holding the end that connected in trembling fingers.

What would his voice sound like? How would he like the apartment, or Jaebum? Would he be scared? Would he be self-aware?

“Get on with it,” Bambam whined. Jaebum rolled his eyes and gently plugged the cyborg in, looking at his face.

Nothing. Nothing happened. There wasn’t an instantaneous jolt, or movement, or flutter of his eyelids. He just lay there, naked as ever, still as ever, just as inanimate as the sofa he was on.

And then his chest moved. It was a small movement, a small intake of air, but Jaebum’s chest instantly felt lighter with relief. From behind the couch, (and behind Jackson,) Bambam made small noises of wonder.

“He’s breathing,” he whispered. Jackson leaned over and frowned at the instructions.

“It’ll take an hour or so before he’s fully charged and ready to move,” Jackson read. “So I think Bambam and I should leave, let you two get acquainted, y’know?” Jaebum nodded numbly, watching the steady rise and fall of the cyborg’s chest.

“C’mon, Bam, let’s head out.” Jackson murmured. The sound of their footsteps receding echoed in Jaebum’s ears, and he barely registered his own hummed response. The door closed quietly and he was alone with his cyborg.

“What on earth will I call you?” He whispered. The cyborg didn’t respond, of course, but Jaebum waited for a response anyway.

“Maybe I’ll let you choose,” he continued. Talking out loud to the cyborg made his nerves less prominent, and it made him feel less alone in the small apartment (because his cat was nowhere to be found.)

Jaebum lost track of time, simply watching his cyborg breathe. He was real. He existed and he was breathing and even though he wasn’t human, Jaebum wasn’t as uneasy as he thought he’d be. Suddenly, his fingers twitched.

Then his lips.

His eyelids fluttered for a long moment, and Jaebum’s heart caught in his throat.

When they opened, he felt like crying.

The cyborg sniffled, and his eyes flitted around the ceiling, before he saw Jaebum.

“Hi,” Jaebum whispered lamely. The cyborg smiled and damn, he was gorgeous. He sat up easily, looking at Jaebum the entire time.

“Hi,” he said. His voice was sweet and higher than Jaebum’s, and his heart fluttered. They looked at each other for a long moment before the cyborg said, “What’s my name?”

“What name do you like?”

“What name do… _I_ like?”

“Yes, you can choose. We should probably also get you dressed, in a minute,” Jaebum said, rubbing his palms on his pants. _Why_ was he nervous?

“I… don’t know any names.”

Jaebum smiled at how sweet and disappointed his voice sounded.

“That’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” The cyborg smiled.

“I might need help getting dressed,” he said. “I’ve never done it before.”

Jaebum flushed. “I’ll help you, then.”

The cyborg held out a hand and Jaebum hesitated before taking it, helping him out of the box on the couch and picking up the papers that fell, placing them on the table.

Everything felt surreal. He guided the cyborg into his bedroom, where his closet was still open from after his shower earlier.

“Pick out something that appeals to you,” Jaebum murmured, watching as he walked up and investigated the shirts hanging. (He did his best to ignore how perfectly round the boy’s ass was, and failed, but whatever.)

“What about this one?” the cyborg held up a large white tee shirt.

“Perfect.” Jaebum helped him into it, and then opened a drawer in his dresser.

“Next is underwear.” The cyborg nodded, looking sweet and innocent, like a lamb. Jaebum picked up a pair of dark gray boxers and told him which leg goes where, smiling when he looked up at him to see if he did it right.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said. Jaebum bit his lip and pulled him into a tight hug, unable to help himself. The cyborg’s arms came around him automatically, and he felt warm and soft, like a real person.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. The cyborg nuzzled into his shoulder.

“I think I just figured out the first thing that I like,” he murmured. Jaebum raised his eyebrows and pulled away to look at him.   
    “What?”

The cyborg smiled. “Hugs.”

The cyborg eventually decided on the name Youngjae. It suited him, Jaebum thought. He spent a majority of the day asking questions and poking around Jaebum’s apartment, gathering as much knowledge as he could.

Jaebum was nervous. He wouldn’t admit it, he would never admit weakness, but he was scared. Youngjae was so much more lifelike than he had expected; how was he supposed to use him when he was essentially another living, breathing human being? He had morals, and, deciding that regardless of Youngjae’s body or cyborg-ness, he would wait to even try to initiate something between them. He’d feel too guilty.

“Who is this?” Youngjae cooed, picking up Jaebum’s cat Nora, who looked less than happy at being woken from her nap.

Jaebum smiled. He was doing a lot of smiling today. “Her name is Nora,” he said. Youngjae squealed and cuddled her close, stroking her head softly.

“She’s so cute, oppa!”

Jaebum’s heart skipped a beat and his blood turned to fire for a moment. Youngjae didn’t notice his shift, but instead continued petting the cat in his arms.

Did he know how much that affected Jaebum? He couldn’t possibly. Had it been programmed into him? Was it an automatic response, or leftover programming from the female cyborg data his was based off of? Jaebum wanted to kick himself for being so easily affected by a single word, an unintentional word.

He brushed it into the recesses of his mind and glanced at the clock above the stove. It was almost midnight, and he was beginning to feel the first weights of sleepiness pile onto his psyche.

“Youngjae-ah, we should probably get to bed,” he said, smiling fondly at the boy holding a purring cat.

“Okay! Can Nora come?”

Jaebum laughed. “She’d find her way in either way.” Jaebum reached for Youngjae’s hand softly, guiding him to his bedroom.

“Are you sure you want to sleep in my bed?” He asked again.

Youngjae nodded, lacing their fingers together. “It’ll be cozy, and less lonely for both of us.”

Jaebum nodded, releasing his hand and shuffling towards the bed. He shyly removed his pants and socks, glancing up at Youngjae to see the boy too enamored with Nora to notice.

He crawled under the covers and waited nervously for Youngjae to join him. The boy did, placing Nora on the ground and laying with his back to her, facing Jaebum and pulling the covers up around their waists; he looked so cute, in the light of the bedside lamp, illuminated softly from behind and looking sleepy. Jaebum brushed his hair off of his forehead and kissed it, excitement tingling in his abdomen. This gorgeous boy was _his,_ made especially for him. He pulled Youngjae into his arms and flicked off the light, getting comfortable with the weight in his arms being familiar yet different to anything else.

“Goodnight, Youngjae-ah,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Jaebum.”

A few minutes later, something poked into Jaebum’s side. It was Youngjae’s finger.

“I can’t sleep,” he whispered. Jaebum hummed and pulled his warm body closer.

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?” He joked. Youngjae nodded against his chest.

Jaebum smiled into the darkness of the room and stroked the boy’s hair as he began singing in a soft voice, his favorite song:

 

“ _You’re my universe, my galaxy, my infinite;_

 _you’re my hazy morning kisses, you’re my every wish,_ ”

 

Jaebum took a breath, a bit unsteady.

 

“ _You’re my everything, my every want, my destiny;_

 _you’re perfect for me, my love, it’s meant to be._ ”

 

Youngjae softened in his arms and his breathing deepened.

 

“ _If the earth was made for sinners, maybe I was made to sin;_

_if this life is for chance encounters, we’re a coincidence;_

_there’s nothing I want more, oh, there’s nothing I want more, no, there’s nothing I want more than your kiss.”_

 

Jaebum let his own eyes drift shut, and for the first time in months, he slept with a warm body against his and a not-so-empty feeling in his chest.

  
  
  
  


Jaebum woke up to see Youngjae playing with their hands, fingers locked together. The cyborg smiled at him, running his fingers lightly up and down Jaebum’s arm.

“What’re these from, hyung?” he asked. Jaebum frowned and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“What’s what from?”

“These lines.” Jaebum looked at the area Youngjae was touching, feeling a cold rock settle in the pit of his stomach as the boy traced gently over the lines scarring Jaebum’s forearms. He didn’t look at him with pity, as others had, or disgust. He looked at him with a gentle curiosity, an openness that not everyone had.

“They uh, I’m, they’re from me,” Jaebum stammered. Youngjae frowned down at them.

“Why?”

 

Jaebum was at a loss. How did he explain to his cyborg, this precious boy, about depression? How did he explain that hurting himself was the only way to even begin to get a grip on the emotions overpowering him? How did he explain that some days, he felt like existing was _wrong,_ and just wanted to die and get it over with, because if he continued existing he’d only make more people suffer with his presence?

Depression wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t easily explained by a picture of someone sitting by a window in the rain with some pretty poetry on top. Depression was empty, depression was lying in bed for a week without bothering to eat, Depression was the pile of laundry that screamed to be folded to no avail; Depression was heavy, gluing Jaebum to his bed for weeks at a time, getting up only to feed Nora, because he shouldn’t disappoint _everybody_ ; Depression was ugly and it was dirty and it was a disgusting thing, because it made Jaebum feel disgusting. Depression was nausea when he ate and emptiness when he didn’t; Depression was kinship with the thunderstorms and loneliness even on the sunniest of days; Depression was thinning hair and pallid skin; Depression was staring at the same spot on his wall for hours at a time and not moving because he not only had no motivation to, but because it was pointless.

Depression wasn’t poetic. Depression was raw and ugly and difficult to explain, depression was the reason Jaebum had trouble both falling asleep and waking up. Depression was his, belonged to him, just like he belonged to Depression.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me,” Youngjae said softly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I just can’t… I can’t put the words together right.” Youngjae nodded and continued tracing over his skin with delicate fingertips.

“When you’re ready, then.”

Jaebum tried to settle his brain and put his emotions aside from his words.

“I have depression,” he began. “I’ve had it for a long time. And it hurts me, it makes me want to hurt _myself._ It makes me feel like I don’t matter, no matter what I do. It’s worse than feeling sad. It’s like an emptiness. A numbness, maybe.” Youngjae angled his head.

“It grounded me. It made me feel like I was in control, even though everything else was slipping away from me. It made me feel something other than lonely.”

Before he could continue further, arms wrapped tightly around him and Youngjae pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Could cyborgs even feel sorry?

“It’s okay now, I’m okay,” Jaebum said. Something in the back of his mind whispered that he was lying.

“I don’t understand emotions,” Youngjae murmured. “I want to know why you did it. Explaining it makes sense, but I don’t understand depression, or sadness, or emptiness. I wasn’t programmed to have such a range of emotion,” he said. His voice was flat, almost sarcastic. “But I want to. I want to feel it.”

“Do you really want to experience it? It’s not a good thing,” Jaebum murmured back. Youngjae looked at him determinedly.

“Yes, Jaebum. I want to know emotion. The good and the bad. I want to help you, but I want to understand, too.” Jaebum felt like crying.

“Okay, Youngjae-ah. I’ll see what I, what _we,_ can do.” Youngjae smiled at him and pecked him softly on the lips, still holding his hand. Jaebum felt like he was dreaming.

  
  
  


“So can you do it?” Jaebum asked hopefully, holding the phone against his cheek. Jackson’s voice crackled out. “I don’t know, man, I’ve never worked with the type of programming a cyborg has…” Jaebum’s heart sank.

“But are you willing to try?”

“I’d have to read up on it, look at some diagrams and formatting first; I can’t go in blindly and try to work or he’ll come out of it speaking gaelic with a lisp and shoving garlic up his nose.” Jaebum huffed, and Jackson giggled, in his hyena-like way.

“But I guess, if I read up on it enough, I could _try-_ ”

“Thank you so much, Jackson, really.”

Jackson grunted, but Jaebum heard the smile in his voice when he spoke. “No problem, man. Any work is good work, right?”

Jaebum laughed breathlessly.

“Right.”

  
  
  
  


Jaebum scrolled through the online manuals of every cyborg he could read about, taking detailed notes on the internal wiring and circuits, if only to help himself; Youngjae slept next to him, looking impossibly cute and impossibly human. He familiarized himself with the electrical connections that made up a cyborg’s ‘emotions’ and calculated (based on other models) the maximum capacity for human emotion in a cyborg.

One thing wasn’t adding up, though. There was an unimaginable range of emotion, but the circuit boards within a cyborg only allotted for one half of the possible ‘base’ emotions (happiness, sadness, lust, anger, love, hate, curiosity, disgust, fear.) If he wanted to gift Youngjae the emotions he wanted, he’d have to find and program a new circuit board from scratch, install it, make sure it worked. He decided to contact the person making the cyborgs, so he went back to the original page where he ordered from.

There was a user profile, under the name SoCal626.

He clicked it.

Under the message option, he hesitated. What if he couldn’t help? What if he only programmed certain emotions for a reason?

Swallowing down his unsurety, Jaebum clicked the message option and began typing.

_I need your help. Can we meet in person?_

After gazing at it a moment, he typed a capitalized ‘urgent’ up top, along with his phone number and information beneath it. He hit send and waited.

  
  
  


As it turns out, SoCal626 was a guy a bit older than him named Mark, and yes, he could help. He requested that they meet up to talk about it in person, because if he emailed anything about his techniques or methods he was paranoid that they’d be monitored and copied and he’d be out of business. Jaebum agreed, and, with Youngjae’s hand in his, he waited anxiously at the small cafe table.

Youngjae drew soothing circles into the back of his hand, grounding him. Jaebum wanted to give this boy the world.

The bell above the door tinkled and Jaebum shifted nervously, eyeing the man who entered. He was thin and wispy looking, with fairy floss pink hair that brushed his ears and a nose with a high royal arch; his eyes were soft and his skin was porcelain, and his fingers were long and slim, but blemish-free, perched around the strap of a messenger bag. Could this be him? Impossible.

But, actually, possible. The man, _Mark,_ turned and smiled at them, eyes lighting up as he recognized Youngjae. He made his way over quietly and sat across from them, smiling the entire time.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said to Youngjae His voice was deep and smooth. Then, to Jaebum: “What did you name him?”

Jaebum shuffled around again, slightly uncomfortable.

“I let him name himself. His name is Youngjae.” Mark considered this for a moment before glancing at the cyborg and smiling.

“What do you mean again?” Youngjae mumbled. Mark absently scratched at his neck, still smiling.

“I made you,” he said. Youngjae looked at Jaebum for confirmation and he nodded, and Youngjae visibly relaxed.

“His fight or flight program seems to be responding well to new situations,” Mark murmured.

Jaebum cleared his throat; he didn’t want Youngjae to feel objectified. “Uh, so, the reason I contacted you.”

“Yes, are there any maintenance problems?” Jaebum shook his head.

“Have you been using him too roughly?” Mark continued. Jaebum flushed and shook his head adamantly.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just wish to, uh, do something for him.” Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“I, uh, is it possible that you-- we-- could give him emotion? Unlimited, real, full emotion?” Mark’s eyes widened almost comically.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

Mark sat back in his seat with a long huff, looking thoughtful. There was a long silence then, one that spread out longer than it actually was and made Jaebum’s palms sweat.

“I guess,” Mark said slowly, “we could try. If we mess up or anything goes bad, I can just wire him back to his original circuits and log into his memory core from within to access the memories he’s gained…” Mark was talking faster now, looking a bit dazed.

“Though, it’s probably better if I guide you through the memories, so I don’t see stuff I’m not privy to, right?” Mark winked.

Jaebum flushed further and Youngjae’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, instantly working to soothe the temper building within him.

“No, we actually haven’t-- uh, I want to-- he can’t properly consent,” Jaebum stammered. Mark angled his head.

(“What’s consent, hyung?” Youngjae whispered. Jaebum shushed him gently.

“I’ll tell you later, Youngjae-ah.” )

“What do you mean ‘properly’?”

“He’s programmed to consent. With a full range of emotion and rewiring he’ll be able to decide for himself what he wants and what he doesn’t.”

Mark looked at him for a long moment, almost as if sizing him up. Jaebum held his gaze and held Youngjae’s hand. He felt brave.

Finally, Mark spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice, but not condescendingly. “You’re an interesting man, Jaebum. Very interesting indeed.”

“So-- So you’ll do it?”

Mark nodded, smiling at both of them now.

“I’ll do it, but I’ll need help.”

Jaebum nodded fervently. “I can help, and I already have two techs ready to help as well,” he said. Mark raised his eyebrows.

“You came prepared. You must really want this, huh?”

Jaebum looked at Youngjae, who smiled at him. He felt like he was on top of the world.

“More than anything.”

  
  
  
  
  


Back at Jaebum’s apartment, the moment they stepped through the door, Jaebum shut it and swept Youngjae into a tight hug, spinning him around as he laughed. As they both laughed. Youngjae clung to his shirt tightly when he pulled away, looking up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m getting emotions,” He said breathlessly.

Jaebum beamed down at him, eyes turning to tiny crescent moons. Youngjae used the fistfuls of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. Jaebum’s heart skipped twenty beats, probably, because this boy, this pure, lovely boy, was _his,_ and he was _kissing him,_ and it didn’t matter that he was a cyborg, because it was perfect.

“I love you,” Youngjae breathed. Jaebum’s throat caught.

He was in love, too, he realized. More quickly than he’d ever fallen in love. But was Youngjae’s love real? Would he feel the same after his rewiring?

Jaebum chose to ignore the maybe’s and the questions, instead smiling and kissing Youngjae’s forehead.

“And I love you, Jae-ah.”

  
  
  
  
  


The morning of the rewiring, Youngjae traced patterns over his shoulders while they lay in bed, his head on Jaebum’s chest. He’d charged all night and had decided to wake Jaebum up by crawling into bed and cuddling him to alertness.

“Jaebum,” he said softly.

Jaebum hummed, running his fingers through Youngjae’s soft hair.

“What did he mean when he said ‘use’ me?”

The last dregs of sleep were instantly shed.

“Why are you asking _now,_ Youngjae-ah?” The boy shrugged.

“Is… is ‘use’ a bad thing?”

“No…”

“Then why not?”

“Because you’re programmed to consent. I’d rather let you _actually_ consent.”

“Consent?”

“To let something happen, to want something to happen, to give in, I guess.”

“Give in to what?”

“Uh… desires,” Jaebum croaked. Why was Youngjae asking about all this _now_? “Like, um… sexual… sexual ones.”

“So, you would wait for me to want to have sex, even though I’m programmed to… consent?”  Youngjae crinkled his nose against him.

“Yeah,” Jaebum mumbled. “It’s really important to me. I don’t want to take advantage of you, Jae.” Youngjae squirmed and turned onto his belly to look at him, and Jaebum’s heart almost stopped at the blown-out eyes and parted lips that greeted him.

“It’s already there, hyung,” he whispered. “It’s _made_ to be there. You don’t… have to wait…” Jaebum swallowed heavily as Youngjae leaned in. This was _not_ supposed to happen, not yet, not like this, not with twenty new voicemails from Jinyoung on his phone. Youngjae’s lips met his, and they were soft and pliant but driven, and as his tongue shyly slid across Jaebum’s lower lip, he braced his hands on the boy’s shoulders and gently pulled him off.

“No, Youngjae, I _do_ have to wait. You’re… this isn’t real. Your consent is important to me, I don’t want artificial consent like this. I want _you._ I want you so badly.”

Youngjae pouted. “Then why not take it for what it is?”

“Because I can’t, Youngjae-ah, I’m sorry.”

Youngjae sighed and flopped back down, curling up against him tightly. Jaebum kissed the crown of his head. This boy was a piece of work, sometimes.

“Will rewiring hurt?” He asked softly. Jaebum didn’t know.

“It might,” He admitted. “But I hope not.”

“Me too.”

Jaebum resumed stroking his hair, and Youngjae resumed tracing indecipherable patterns over Jaebum’s skin, and they lay and waited for the phone call from Mark saying that it was time.

  
  
  
  
  


Two hours later, Jaebum’s phone buzzed, and he answered it without thinking, nervous as hell. Youngjae was getting dressed in his favorite white tee shirt, complaining that it didn’t smell like Jaebum enough, and Jaebum was in the middle of tying his shoe.

“Hello?” he answered breathlessly.

There was a long pause. A long, long pause.

The other line crackled. “Jaebum?” Jinyoung’s voice murmured.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum said, feeling his stomach drop.

“You answered…”

“I was expecting a call from someone.”

Jinyoung sounded broken. “I’m sorry for all the voicemails, I… I’ve been drinking a lot and I stopped seeing him, I did, and I-I don’t hate you, and I never did, and--” his voice cracked, sounding close to tears.

“And I’m so sorry, Jaebum, please forgive me, please. I miss you. I miss you s-so much and I want to go home, to be home with you, _please,_ ” he sobbed. Jaebum felt his eyes prickle with the beginnings of tears. He could picture Jinyoung clearly, curled up in the corner of his recliner with his favorite pajamas on, crying into his sleeves. It was a harrowing image.

“Jinyoungie, I can’t do it that easily,” he said, tone softening. Jinyoung sniffled loudly.

“Please try? Please? I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry that I hurt you and hurt us and I miss you so fucking much, Jaebum, please, _please_ forgive me,”

 _“Jaebum-hyung, have you seen my shoes anywhere?”_ Youngjae called from the bathroom.

“Wh-who was that?” Jinyoung breathed.

“That’s, uh,” Jaebum sighed. “That’s my cyborg, Youngjae.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, followed by a soft and almost inaudible ‘oh.’

“Look, Jinyoung, I want to move past this, I really do. But all I can offer at the moment is that we talk it out and be friends, and nothing more, not for the foreseeable future.” Jinyoung sniffled again, sounding even more choked up.

“That’s more than I deserve,” he mumbled. A part of Jaebum agreed, but he didn’t vocalize it.

“Well, I guess if you’re waiting on a call, I should go so I don’t hog up the phone lines,” he said. Jaebum smiled softly, remembering for a moment the long nights spent talking over the phone and waking up at noon with the call still going and missed texts from everyone.

“Okay.”

“Uh, goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye, Jinyoung.” he hung up abruptly and almost cut Jaebum off, and Jaebum frowned down at his phone. So many questions ran through his mind, all silenced when he glanced up to see Youngjae walk in with a pair of shoes in his hands triumphantly.

“Hyung, I found them!” he proclaimed brightly.

Jaebum smiled, and it didn’t feel entirely genuine.

“Perfect, Youngjae-ah. Where were they?”

Youngjae laughed. “One was in the kitchen and the other was under the couch.”

Jaebum stood with open arms, silently asking for a hug, and Youngjae immediately dropped the shoes and acquiesced. With the smaller boy’s frame pressed against him, warm and soft and comforting, Jaebum let his tears slip out, burying his face in Youngjae’s neck.

Youngjae tightened his hold on him, rubbing the back of his neck softly.

“What’s wrong” he asked. Jaebum sniffled and held his precious boy so, so close, breathing heavily into his neck.

“I’m just happy for you, is all.” Youngjae patted his back soothingly.

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue.

  
  
  
  
  


Twenty minutes later, Mark calls to tell him that he’s parked outside. When they get there, he’s smiling sheepishly from inside a pretty beaten-up white station wagon.

“Her name’s Peppermint, and she’s a ‘97 Ford Taurus,” he said when they got in. “So be gentle and don’t make too much of a mess.” The ride was pretty quiet, save for the muted tones of the radio playing on a quiet volume.

Youngjae held his hand the entire ride, more for Jaebum’s own sake than his. Jaebum was thankful for it.

   

  
  


   

  


Two weeks. It would take two weeks for Mark, Jackson, and Bambam to completely finish working on him and giving him real emotions and thought processes.

It seemed like such a stuttering halt in Jaebum’s fast-paced decision making as of late, and the sudden blankness of his personal space voided him of emotion. He instantly missed Youngjae’s soft hand in his own, the boy’s easy smile, his twinkling eyes.

He’d asked Mark if he could help.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said, no.”

“Why?”

“You’re too emotionally attached. You’ll be scared of hurting him or messing up and you’ll slow it down. I’m sorry but we need to do this as fast as possible so his memory cortex has as much of a chance as possible to be fully restored.”

It was probably the longest thing Mark had ever said to him in one go, and Jaebum was slightly upset, but he knew it was for the best.

He sat on Mark’s sofa, eyeing the small white dog snoozing on the other end of it. His mind was too busy whirring to worry about trying to pet it, because his three friends were in the garage working on Youngjae, and had been for the past few hours. Whenever they emerged to get a drink or search for something, they looked haggard and out of breath, hands a bit dirty and sweat dotting their brows.

Honestly, Jaebum was scared. He was more scared than he’d ever been in his life, even when he’d broken his arm at age six and his parents weren’t home. He’d cried for hours, and he felt like doing so now, but to save face and preserve his masculinity, his tough atmosphere, he didn’t.

He simply curled up on the couch and watched as the little white dog slept, eventually drifting off into a fitful sleep himself.

  
  
  
  
  


“You have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just a little something?”

“No.”

Jaebum had been arguing with Jackson for the past twenty minutes. It was his third day here and he had barely left the couch, where Nora had been unceremoniously dumped after Jackson made the trek to Jaebum’s apartment to get her. Jackson sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, still wet from his shower, leaving it sticking up in fluffy damp peaks.

“Mark is setting up the guest bedroom right now,” he said after a long, thoughtful pause. “He probably doesn’t want you polluting his couch anymore.”

Jaebum huffed. “Not polluting,” he mumbled. He let Jackson help him up and he toddled into the guest room, where Mark was in the process of pulling a dark navy blue comforter over the bed. He smiled at Jaebum.

“How’s progress?”

“Well, the sheets were a bit too wrinkled, so I had to put them in the dryer to get the creases out--” Mark smiled cheekily. “He’s doing great. We’re a little bit ahead of schedule, but there’s more difficult things that we still have to tackle, so it’s a guessing game as far as the exact time.”

Jaebum nodded.

“But it’s going well? Nobody messed up or anything?”

Mark smiled wider. “Nobody messed up,” he repeated. “Or anything.”

Jaebum sighed in relief.

“You know, you don’t have to do this for me.” Jaebum gestured towards the bed.

“I kinda do, or you’d still be refusing to leave my couch.” His words were softened with a pat on the shoulder. “It’s no problem, really. I like feeling like I have friends keeping me company.”

“We are your friends.”

“...Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Mark didn’t reply, instead bringing Jaebum into a chaste hug before releasing him and leaving him in the room on his own.

  
  
  
  
  


Day eleven.

“He’s asking for you.”

Jaebum looked up from the article he was scrolling through to see Bambam standing in the doorway.

“Youngjae. He’s asking for you.”

Jaebum’s breath caught in his throat and he all but tackled Bambam out of the way to get to the garage. Youngjae was under a sheet with his parts scattered about in various states of wholeness across the room, and Mark was typing at a computer with Jackson looking over his shoulder.

“Don’t fuck with me, Bambam,” Jaebum growled.

“I’m not. We managed to get his programming onto a computer while we work on him separately,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s been asking about you non-stop.”

Jaebum stepped in quietly, peering around Mark’s head. The computer monitor was old, a practically prehistoric model that took up a good portion of the desk, but it was fast as Mark typed. Responses popped up almost immediately, and Jaebum felt his heart leap.

“Can… I say hi?” he mumbled. Mark turned to face him, smiling.

“Please do, he’s getting a bit fussy.”

Jaebum smiled and moved to take Mark’s seat as he stood, letting Jackson pat his back.

 _Hi, Youngjae-ah,_ he typed, smiling like a doofus. _It’s Jaebum-hyung._ He hit enter and almost instantaneously messages popped onto the screen.

_JAEBUM_

_HI_

_I MISSED YOU_

_A LOT_

_HI_

Jaebum laughed with glee, feeling like he was walking on clouds miles above the stratosphere.

_I missed you too. I miss you still._

_Nonsense, hyung! We can talk now!_

_I’m glad :)_

_I am too :D how have you been? Have you been sleeping well?? Have you eaten yet today?_

“No he hasn’t,” Jackson grumbled from his side. Jaebum elbowed him before typing.

_I’m doing okay, I’m mostly anxious about this but excited for the result. Are you okay?_

_Yeah, I’m fine, I think. It’s weird being in a computer._

_How so?_

_Well, for starters, nothing FEELS. Like, I can’t FEEL myself smile now that you’re here, but I know for a fact that I would be. It’s a little unnerving._

_It sounds like it._

_And not to be rude, but Mark-hyung is a bit boring._

Jaebum balked loudly and rushed to muffle his laughter, hearing Jackson snicker over his shoulder.

_Boring???_

_YES!! All he talks to me about is computer stuff and cyborg stuff. Like, hello, I like regular people-things. Like cats. Nora is great!_

_Jackson had to get her from our apartment and bring her here and now she won’t leave Bambam alone._

_Really??_

_Yeah. I’ve been sleeping here and basically living here, so she had to come along._

_I’ll get to see you AND Nora in the same day??_

_Yes :)_

_SDJGSHSDJFAF I’M SO EXCITED HYUNG. I CAN FEEL EXCITED!!! I’M E X C I T E D!_

Jaebum squealed into his hands, ignoring Bambam’s cackle from behind him. His baby was okay, he was so close to being back home in his arms, where he belonged.

 _I’m excited too_.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Day thirteen.

Jaebum was still in bed with Nora curled against the small of his back, and for the most part, he was asleep. His brain was too exhausted to keep him awake any longer. He’d passed out somewhere around noon the previous day and as he slowly came to his senses, judging by the light filtering in through the window and onto his closed eyelids, it was about noon again.

A hand shook his shoulder.

“Hyung,” someone whispered.

Without opening his eyes, Jaebum frowned and burrowed into his blankets more.

“Go away, Jackson, I’m sleeping.”

 _“Hyung,”_ the voice whispered again, and hello, that was _not_ Jackson’s voice. Jaebum sat up sleepily, confused, bedhead sticking up in every direction.

A sweet, pure laugh sounded out in front of him, and his eyes flew open, all traces of sleep long forgotten. Youngjae was sitting on the desk chair, smiling widely, looking adorable wrapped in one of Jaebum’s hoodies.

Jaebum stood hurriedly and immediately scooped Youngjae into his arms, holding onto him tightly and burying his face in the younger’s neck. The boy’s arms wrapped around him just as tightly, and Jaebum felt hot tears slip down his own cheeks. He spun them around, and Youngjae’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Jaebum wobbled on his feet and they both fell onto the bed, Jaebum nestled between Youngjae’s legs and Youngjae laughing his beautiful laugh. Jaebum laughed too.

They both just lay there, laughing and smiling at each other like they had the entire world in their hands, and as he held Youngjae closely, his palms rubbing his back, he decided that _yeah,_ he did have the world in his hands.

He had the whole wide world right here in his hands.

  
  
  
  


BONUS:

Jaebum pressed Youngjae down into his bed, their bed, back at the apartment. He kissed him breathlessly, and Youngjae kissed him back just the same. They were both already down to just their boxers, and Youngjae’s legs wrapped around Jaebum’s back as he pulled him down, gasping at the contact as their crotches ground together. Jaebum let out a choked moan and leaned down to suck on Youngjae’s neck, rolling the skin between his teeth, savoring every sound the boy let out.

“Youngjae-ah,” he murmured. The boy whined.

“A-ah, yes, hyung?”

“I need your permission.”

“Yes. Please,” Youngjae pleaded.

“Please what?” Jaebum continued grinding their crotches together.

“Please- ah- please fuck me,” he whimpered.

“Where did you learn such language, baby boy?”

“ _Please,_ ” Youngjae said, pulling his boxers off and looking at Jaebum expectantly.

That was all Jaebum needed before he was lubing up two fingers and twisting them into the boy beneath him, kissing him through the burn.

“I-I can feel pain now,” Youngjae said. “Am I.. _supposed_ to like it?” Jaebum growled against his neck.

“There are different kinds of pain, lovely boy,” he said. Youngjae shivered and he added a third finger. “Would you like to be spanked? Choked, maybe? You’d look so pretty with a hand around your neck.”

Youngjae keened as Jaebum crooked his fingers, hitting the cyborg’s sweet spot.

(Though he was a cyborg, the ‘pleasant’ touch sensors in his skin were very active, and _very_ clustered around the one area. Jaebum was enthralled.)

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes, so much, fuck,” Youngjae babbled.

“There you go with that dirty mouth of yours,” Jaebum murmured into his lips, kissing him deeply as he scissored him open.

“Are you ready?” Jaebum breathed.

Youngjae nodded fervently, spreading his thighs further in anticipation. Jaebum removed his fingers and boxers and slid inside almost effortlessly, grabbing the cyborg’s (also heavily laden with pleasant touch sensors) leaking member and gliding over it smoothly.

“Oh m’god, it feels so good,” Youngjae moaned, arching up into Jaebum’s hand. Jaebum began to fuck into him in earnest, already feeling much too close to finish with the downright pornographic noises his lovely boy was making and the way he was sprawled out underneath him, grabbing onto the sheets, pliant under his hands and so, so needy.

With his own climax quickly approaching, Jaebum found Youngjae’s sweet spot again and did his best to abuse it, pumping the younger boy’s cock in time with his thrusts.

With a loud, very explicit-sounding moan of Jaebum’s name, Youngjae’s back arched off the bed before relaxing, and a few thrusts was all it took for Jaebum to come, pulling out and streaking across Youngjae’s tummy. The pearly white looked so good in contrast with the lightly honeyed tone of his skin. Jaebum grabbed for the nearest article of clothing, a shirt or something, and used it to clean him up before pulling him snug against his chest and cradling him fondly.

Youngjae was warm and soft in his arms, hair messy and eyes half-mast. He looked absolutely adorable.

Jaebum cuddled him closer, kissing his lips, his nose, his eyelids, all over his face.

“You’re so good, baby, so lovely,” he mumbled between kisses. Youngjae soaked up the praise eagerly, nuzzling into Jaebum and pressing sleepy kisses to his neck and collar bones.

“Can we sleep?”

Jaebum laughed. “Of course. C’mere.”

“I love you, Youngjae-ah,” he said.

“I love you too.”

He pulled the boy closer until they were spooned tightly together and rubbed his tummy soothingly, lulling him into a deep sleep.

From where he lay, he couldn’t see his phone on the floor, lighting up with a new voicemail.

He went to sleep too.

  
  


_New voice message from: Jinyoung, 1:13 AM._

_*beep*_

_Jaebum-ah, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know I messed things up between us and I know you said we could be friends but I want more than that and I’m sorry._

_I’m at the bridge now. The one we used to walk on, right over the Han River, remember? I want to jump. I won’t, for you. But I want to. I’m sorry for that too._

_It’s hard to stay sober without you here. When I’m sober everything is too cold and too lonely and I-I make bad decisions. I wish I was sober though. I’m sorry that I’m not._

_I’m not calling just to make a fool out of myself for pity’s sake, though. I’ve done enough of that already. I’m calling to let you know that I’m moving. I don’t know where, and I don’t know how I’m going to get there. But staying here, so close to you yet so far, is hurting me. All I see are the faces of people we know, the restaurants we went to, the hotels we…_

_I can’t stay here without wanting to be with you, and that’s not an option anymore. I’m sorry for this too, for leaving again, but mostly I’m just sorry._

_I should probably stop apologizing and go, huh? Part of me hopes that you’ll still pick up. It’s not a good kind of hope._

_When I know for sure what’s going on and where I’m going, I’ll call you again. Just.. with less regretful words, hopefully._

_I’m sorry that I’m so sad._

_Goodbye for now, Jaebum._

_*beep*_

_End of voice message. To erase this message, press 1. To listen to this message again, press--_

_*beep*_

_Message Erased._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for wading through my angsty garbage pile. comments/requests are welcome and appreciated!! request more pairings below!


End file.
